(if you tolerate this then) your children will be next
by stickmarionette
Andres prides himself on a healthy attitude towards the superhero lifestyle, if such a thing were at all possible. He's not obsessed with fighting crime. It might be unconventional but it's still a job, and jobs have off hours.
For Pep, the total eradication of crime is more than a goal - it's a part of the way he's wired.
* * *
"That's why you need someone. Someone with perspective."
A smile did truly terrifying things to the cowl. Andres had observed this effect before, but close up, it had an entirely different power.
"Are you saying I lack a sense of perspective?"
"Uh, I - I was just -"
"Don't lie to Batman, kid," Nightwing said. He sounded serious.
Andres couldn't disobey that. "Yes. Yes, sir. That is what I'm saying."
The smile beneath the cowl left, replaced by a softness around the mouth, the sort of relaxation Andres had only ever seen through the lens of a camera. He looked less like Batman than ever. "You know my name. Please, use it."
* * *
Sometimes, Andres regrets it. No, that's not quite right. He considers regreting it. (Considers, and then rejects the idea, every single time.) One of those times happened right after his first experience of being relegated to what Xavi called the role of Boy Hostage.
Xavi would also tell him it was just one of the hazards of the job.
Pep checked him over, had Charly bring him hot chocolate before bed, and the next day Andres woke up suspended from the ceiling of the Batcave.
It took him 15 minutes to get free the first time. He had enough time to encrypt the training report with the most annoying security codes he could think of on short notice before Pep came back.
That got him his first solo ride in the Batmobile. But Pep's delighted laugh upon seeing the encryption work was an even better reward.
* * *
"Do you have any idea what you're getting into?"
Andres didn't trust his voice to work. He slipped two fingers into the inside pocket of his jacket, took out the photo, and presented it to Batman.
"You found us," Nightwing said.
He sounded surprised, almost awed. It finally gave Andres the strength to smile. "I'm sorry, but - you were careless. Once."
* * *
Andres has maybe two minutes to free himself and find a hiding place before the guard comes back. And then back-up could be called. Failing that, he needs floor plans. Too much security to fight his way out without them.
110 seconds.
First there's the minor inconvenience of being deprived of all his gear. Thankfully, he believes in meticulously preparation. It takes him a moment - and no little pain - to pry open the fake thumbnail and reach the lock pick inside.
90 seconds.
Reaching the lock with his right hand is a matter of leverage and acrobatics. He has a horrible moment in which the possibility of having to dislocate something in order to do it looms large.
His training prevails.
60 seconds.
The lock opens with a click, too loud in the silence. He takes a second to remove the other cuff - it's valuable time wasted, but the clank as he moves is too telling. The space he's been left in is large, scattered with pieces of office furniture, dusty enough that it hasn't been in use for a good month or two. The outside wall is lined with large windows.
A quick inspection reveals no locks, and a decent sized ledge outside. (If the thug population were competent, they'd have more of a problem.) He's going to have to risk the noise and try opening it. Without any jumpline, the ledges are going to be his best route down.
50 seconds.
The window opens with a squeal, thankfully not too loud. He levels himself out, gripping the frame for balance, and gets his first good look around.
Four floors up, abandoned office building, probably in L'Hospitalet de Llobregat, although he'd need another look to be sure of the exact area.
Before that, he needs to be out of sight.
30 seconds left. Three more ledge drops without a handhold in sight.
If he wasn't Robin, he'd be worried.
* * *
Xavi wasn't built for acrobatics. He'd beaten and cajoled his body into cooperating through sheer determination. Not that Andres knew that.
When he first saw Robin, Andres could only gape.
Gape, and take as many photos as his camera could handle in quick succession. He knew it was dangerous to go out at night looking for something that was barely real, but he couldn't imagine doing anything else. The moment he saw that first clip of Batman and Robin on TV, he knew what he had to do.
The clip was short and grainy enough that most people wouldn't have picked up any identifying characteristics. Andres wasn't most people. He had seen that particular move once before, and he never forgot.
After 5 months of tailing Batman and Robin all over the city, he finally got close enough for the zoom function on his camera.
Two weeks after that, he got caught.
* * *
Batman is both less and more than his myth, and Pep probably likes it that way. Robin means - meant - something entirely different. Andres is never going to be bright and loud and cheerful the way Xavi was when he was in the costume.
For example: Xavi might - and probably has - convinced little old ladies to led him their phones while wearing a garish circus outfit and a mask. Andres hotwires a payphone instead.
The security risk, at least, is comparable. He'll have to come back later and clear his tracks, and Pep will have to shut down the number. Can't be helped.
"R to B, I need backup in zone C15."
"I'm patching N in. N, status?"
"A little tied up at the moment, B."
"That better not be literal," Andres says before he can stop himself. Maybe Xavi's thing for bad jokes is getting to him. Plus, he wouldn't put it past Xavi to mean it literally.
He could hear Pep's attempt to turn his chuckle into a cough. "Don't ask silly questions, R. Status?"
"Physical - about 80%. All gear lost. About to have an entire smuggling ring's company."
"N, finish up and head over. Robin, ETA for backup is 15 minutes."
Xavi's laugh rings through the air in time with the crack of his escrima sticks hitting muscle and bone. "Always nice to be the subject of expectations. Got it, B."
* * *
When rumours of the Bat began, they sounded like stories made up to scare children. The creature was said to be half man, half beast. Terrifyingly fast, with black wings that blocked out the sky, and deadly claws.
Andres was still a child back then. But the stories didn't scare him. He never dreamt of monsters. Only of flying, held carefully by a strong pair of arms that never let him fall.
* * *
Xavi might not naturally have an acrobat's shape, but he does have an acrobat's relationship with gravity. Even now, in the middle of a fight, hugely outnumbered, Andres has to work hard not to get distracted just watching.
He can't even be envious. It's not anyone's fault that Xavi is the gold standard.
Andres' estimate of the numbers at the office building had been a little off - they were in fact down to what looks like a skeleton crew, not very heavily armed, easily dealt with in close quarters. It takes the two of them less than an hour to clean them out, place a 112 call and leave the gang nicely bond for the Mossos d'Esquadra.
Xavi taps his communicator to end the emergency call, dusting off his hands with great drama. "Job well done. We didn't get all the leaders, but it's a good start. Come on, I'll give you a ride back."
Something slides into place with an audible click.
"Ah - can we - "
Xavi's eyes crinkle. "Yes, Robin?"
"Talk for a bit?"
"Of course."
On the roof of the office building, the wind is strong enough to be felt against his suit. It's a nice evening, clear enough to see stars. The kind of night where the Batsignal would cast its light over the entire city if the Commissioner turned it on.
Xavi folds himself into an easy perch. "Ask me. I know you want to."
"I - I don't know what he wants from me."
Even Andres isn't sure who he means by that - Batman or Pep? He knows enough - has always known - that there are important differences between the man in the cowl and out of it. But that's not nearly enough.
Xavi's grin takes effort. Andres has dedicated years to being able to tell these things through the mask, but even he can't hope to unravel what happened to make Xavi become Nightwing. Why the relationship between him and Pep changed.
"I can't answer that. He acts differently around you than he does with me."
"Really? What's he like with you?"
Xavi pauses. "More than a mentor. Less than a friend."
One day, Xavi will be Batman. Andres has always known that. He's the perfect heir - just as smart, just as obsessive underneath the laughing mask. And he'll burn himself out trying to make this city better just like Pep.
It's Andres' job to make sure he lasts.
* * *
Mom and dad were going to be so angry. Not only had Andres scratched up his suit trying to climb up into the treehouse, he wasn't sure he could get down. If this was the garden at home he'd yell out and someone would hear, but the Bernabeu grounds seemed endless, especially at night.
He really shouldn't have snuck out, even if he was so very bored inside, amongst the adults drinking in their neat outfits. Normally, Andres didn't mind being around adults. He liked listening to their conversations. But tonight it was just hopelessly dull, and after an hour he'd spent enough time looking around that he'd worked out the area of the entertaining room in his head and could visualize the layout of every single painting and vase in his head with his eyes closed.
When he finished with that, the garden seemed like the only choice. Slipping out had been easy. Climbing the treehouse hadn't been too bad, when he was curious and it seemed interesting.
Getting down, now...
Andres blinked. He was sure the lawn had been empty the last time he looked. There was now a thin man standing not too far from the reach of the tree roots, dressed in a black suit.
He took his chance. "Hello, Mister? Can you help?"
"Hello. What's wrong?" the man said, looking straight at him. He didn't seem at all surprised to see Andres up there.
Andres went red. "I, uh - I can't get down."
"Well, that is a problem." Andres was too far up to see, but the man sounded like he was smiling. "Hang in there a moment, I'm going to get you some help."
"You'll be back?" Andres said quickly.
The man stopped walking. "Less than two minutes. Promise. What's your name?"
"Andres. Andres Iniesta."
"Andres, you have a watch?"
"Yep."
"Hold me to it, if you like. Start timing. Two minutes."
Watching his watch tick took his mind off worrying. The second hand had gone around a little more than once when the man came back. The help he had been talking about -
The boy couldn't have been that much older than Andres. The man was talking to him in the same warm tone he had used with Andres. "I shudder to think what kind of trouble little Pique was getting you into."
"No trouble, I swear! Hey, is that - wow." The boy whistled. "That's not a treehouse, that's a tree mansion."
"The Bernabeus do like to make everything as grand as possible. Now go. Don't keep Andres waiting."
Andres leaned out of the treehouse to watch the boy climb up, but he quickly had to backtrack to make room as the boy, nimble as a monkey, climbed like he was walking on flat land.
His mouth must have been hanging open really obviously, going by the look on Xavi's face. He had huge, bright eyes like a cartoon character, and the widest smile Andres had ever seen.
"Hey, I'm Xavi. How can I help you?"
Now he really was embarrased. Xavi couldn't have been more than five years older. "I'm stuck."
"You can't climb down?"
"Uh, I - "
"What was that?"
"I'm scared of heights," Andres mumbled.
Xavi whistled. "Wow, good work getting up here. No, I'm serious. Let's see about getting you down, though. I think Pep's getting impatient."
"Pep?"
"That's Pep Guardiola, down there. I'm his ward."
Andres had never heard anyone use that word like that before, but he guessed it meant something like adoption. "Oh. I'm Andres."
Xavi smiled. "Well, Andres, hold on to me and don't let go."
* * *
Hardly anyone cares that Pep was not born a Gamper. Or if they do, they know better than to mention it. Andres still hears the occasional mutter about Xavi, but only after a few cocktails.
He wonders what people are going to say when his guardianship comes through. Just out of curiosity, and respect for the creativity that gossip is capable of. Not that any of it matters.
Xavi drops him at the entrance to the Batcave, saying he has to get back to interrupted business. It's not the most awkward excuse he's used to avoid Pep - or rather Batman - lately, but it's close.
That's a problem that needs studying, but for now -
"Welcome back, young sir."
Carles' ability to make returning from being captured in battle scratched, bruised, and without all his gear sound like coming home from a day spent playing golf never ceases to amaze him. Andres has to smile.
"Thanks, Charly. Is Pep around?"
"I believe you'll find him tending to the Batmobile, sir."
Andres thanks Charly again before moving on into the heart of the Cave. He's more than a little reluctant to do this. But Pep would say that only meant it had to be done quickly, like ripping off a scab.
Not that he needs any sort of healing process. Not for this.
Pep turns before Andres is even ten steps down. He'd been trying to work on stealth, too. Dammit.
The cowl is off, and his smile is easy, relieved. "Welcome back."
Andres breathes in deeply.
"I can't believe you set me up to get caught by those smugglers."
The words linger in the air, batted away only by the force of Pep's voice, precise as one of his blows, softened only by the look in his eyes.
"Incorrect. I put you where you'd be most useful." For a fleeting moment, he looks rueful. "Are you angry at me?"
Andres smiles back.
"I'm not. You know I'm not. I made my choice, just like Xavi did. Like you."
We're partners. No matter what.
Image taken from Batman #442 (A Lonely Place of Dying Part 5).
Notes:
1. This story was heavily influenced by the work of Devin Grayson and Greg Rucka in general, and the Batman story A Lonely Place of Dying in particular. Yes, Andres Iniesta is Tim Drake (Robin III) and Xavi is Dick Grayson (previously Robin I, then Nightwing) in this story. It makes sense if you think about it.
2. By which I mean the line of succession from Guardiola to Xavi to Iniesta does remind me of the way Batfamily dynamics work sometimes. Especially if you were following canon during the late 90s and early 2000s.
3. There's a lot of material that didn't fit in the scope of this story. I tried to balance making sense and telling the limited origin story that I wanted to tell, framed through the lens of a routine operation.
4. Charly is Charles Rexarch, who is the Alfred of this story. The Bernabeu referred to is Amador Bernabeu, the grandfather of Gerard Pique and a former Barca vice-president in real life.
5. L'Hospitalet de Llobregat is a city in greater Barcelona (which incidentally happens to be the hometown of Victor Valdes.) The Mossos d'Esquadra are the police force of Catalunya. 112 is the emergency number for Barcelona.
6. If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next is by the Manic Street Preachers. I thought it was appropriate.
All feedback loved, as always. Many thanks to meretricula for all her help with this fic.
Andres prides himself on a healthy attitude towards the superhero lifestyle, if such a thing were at all possible. He's not obsessed with fighting crime. It might be unconventional but it's still a job, and jobs have off hours.
For Pep, the total eradication of crime is more than a goal - it's a part of the way he's wired.
* * *
"That's why you need someone. Someone with perspective."
A smile did truly terrifying things to the cowl. Andres had observed this effect before, but close up, it had an entirely different power.
"Are you saying I lack a sense of perspective?"
"Uh, I - I was just -"
"Don't lie to Batman, kid," Nightwing said. He sounded serious.
Andres couldn't disobey that. "Yes. Yes, sir. That is what I'm saying."
The smile beneath the cowl left, replaced by a softness around the mouth, the sort of relaxation Andres had only ever seen through the lens of a camera. He looked less like Batman than ever. "You know my name. Please, use it."
* * *
Sometimes, Andres regrets it. No, that's not quite right. He considers regreting it. (Considers, and then rejects the idea, every single time.) One of those times happened right after his first experience of being relegated to what Xavi called the role of Boy Hostage.
Xavi would also tell him it was just one of the hazards of the job.
Pep checked him over, had Charly bring him hot chocolate before bed, and the next day Andres woke up suspended from the ceiling of the Batcave.
It took him 15 minutes to get free the first time. He had enough time to encrypt the training report with the most annoying security codes he could think of on short notice before Pep came back.
That got him his first solo ride in the Batmobile. But Pep's delighted laugh upon seeing the encryption work was an even better reward.
* * *
"Do you have any idea what you're getting into?"
Andres didn't trust his voice to work. He slipped two fingers into the inside pocket of his jacket, took out the photo, and presented it to Batman.
"You found us," Nightwing said.
He sounded surprised, almost awed. It finally gave Andres the strength to smile. "I'm sorry, but - you were careless. Once."
* * *
Andres has maybe two minutes to free himself and find a hiding place before the guard comes back. And then back-up could be called. Failing that, he needs floor plans. Too much security to fight his way out without them.
110 seconds.
First there's the minor inconvenience of being deprived of all his gear. Thankfully, he believes in meticulously preparation. It takes him a moment - and no little pain - to pry open the fake thumbnail and reach the lock pick inside.
90 seconds.
Reaching the lock with his right hand is a matter of leverage and acrobatics. He has a horrible moment in which the possibility of having to dislocate something in order to do it looms large.
His training prevails.
60 seconds.
The lock opens with a click, too loud in the silence. He takes a second to remove the other cuff - it's valuable time wasted, but the clank as he moves is too telling. The space he's been left in is large, scattered with pieces of office furniture, dusty enough that it hasn't been in use for a good month or two. The outside wall is lined with large windows.
A quick inspection reveals no locks, and a decent sized ledge outside. (If the thug population were competent, they'd have more of a problem.) He's going to have to risk the noise and try opening it. Without any jumpline, the ledges are going to be his best route down.
50 seconds.
The window opens with a squeal, thankfully not too loud. He levels himself out, gripping the frame for balance, and gets his first good look around.
Four floors up, abandoned office building, probably in L'Hospitalet de Llobregat, although he'd need another look to be sure of the exact area.
Before that, he needs to be out of sight.
30 seconds left. Three more ledge drops without a handhold in sight.
If he wasn't Robin, he'd be worried.
* * *
Xavi wasn't built for acrobatics. He'd beaten and cajoled his body into cooperating through sheer determination. Not that Andres knew that.
When he first saw Robin, Andres could only gape.
Gape, and take as many photos as his camera could handle in quick succession. He knew it was dangerous to go out at night looking for something that was barely real, but he couldn't imagine doing anything else. The moment he saw that first clip of Batman and Robin on TV, he knew what he had to do.
The clip was short and grainy enough that most people wouldn't have picked up any identifying characteristics. Andres wasn't most people. He had seen that particular move once before, and he never forgot.
After 5 months of tailing Batman and Robin all over the city, he finally got close enough for the zoom function on his camera.
Two weeks after that, he got caught.
* * *
Batman is both less and more than his myth, and Pep probably likes it that way. Robin means - meant - something entirely different. Andres is never going to be bright and loud and cheerful the way Xavi was when he was in the costume.
For example: Xavi might - and probably has - convinced little old ladies to led him their phones while wearing a garish circus outfit and a mask. Andres hotwires a payphone instead.
The security risk, at least, is comparable. He'll have to come back later and clear his tracks, and Pep will have to shut down the number. Can't be helped.
"R to B, I need backup in zone C15."
"I'm patching N in. N, status?"
"A little tied up at the moment, B."
"That better not be literal," Andres says before he can stop himself. Maybe Xavi's thing for bad jokes is getting to him. Plus, he wouldn't put it past Xavi to mean it literally.
He could hear Pep's attempt to turn his chuckle into a cough. "Don't ask silly questions, R. Status?"
"Physical - about 80%. All gear lost. About to have an entire smuggling ring's company."
"N, finish up and head over. Robin, ETA for backup is 15 minutes."
Xavi's laugh rings through the air in time with the crack of his escrima sticks hitting muscle and bone. "Always nice to be the subject of expectations. Got it, B."
* * *
When rumours of the Bat began, they sounded like stories made up to scare children. The creature was said to be half man, half beast. Terrifyingly fast, with black wings that blocked out the sky, and deadly claws.
Andres was still a child back then. But the stories didn't scare him. He never dreamt of monsters. Only of flying, held carefully by a strong pair of arms that never let him fall.
* * *
Xavi might not naturally have an acrobat's shape, but he does have an acrobat's relationship with gravity. Even now, in the middle of a fight, hugely outnumbered, Andres has to work hard not to get distracted just watching.
He can't even be envious. It's not anyone's fault that Xavi is the gold standard.
Andres' estimate of the numbers at the office building had been a little off - they were in fact down to what looks like a skeleton crew, not very heavily armed, easily dealt with in close quarters. It takes the two of them less than an hour to clean them out, place a 112 call and leave the gang nicely bond for the Mossos d'Esquadra.
Xavi taps his communicator to end the emergency call, dusting off his hands with great drama. "Job well done. We didn't get all the leaders, but it's a good start. Come on, I'll give you a ride back."
Something slides into place with an audible click.
"Ah - can we - "
Xavi's eyes crinkle. "Yes, Robin?"
"Talk for a bit?"
"Of course."
On the roof of the office building, the wind is strong enough to be felt against his suit. It's a nice evening, clear enough to see stars. The kind of night where the Batsignal would cast its light over the entire city if the Commissioner turned it on.
Xavi folds himself into an easy perch. "Ask me. I know you want to."
"I - I don't know what he wants from me."
Even Andres isn't sure who he means by that - Batman or Pep? He knows enough - has always known - that there are important differences between the man in the cowl and out of it. But that's not nearly enough.
Xavi's grin takes effort. Andres has dedicated years to being able to tell these things through the mask, but even he can't hope to unravel what happened to make Xavi become Nightwing. Why the relationship between him and Pep changed.
"I can't answer that. He acts differently around you than he does with me."
"Really? What's he like with you?"
Xavi pauses. "More than a mentor. Less than a friend."
One day, Xavi will be Batman. Andres has always known that. He's the perfect heir - just as smart, just as obsessive underneath the laughing mask. And he'll burn himself out trying to make this city better just like Pep.
It's Andres' job to make sure he lasts.
* * *
Mom and dad were going to be so angry. Not only had Andres scratched up his suit trying to climb up into the treehouse, he wasn't sure he could get down. If this was the garden at home he'd yell out and someone would hear, but the Bernabeu grounds seemed endless, especially at night.
He really shouldn't have snuck out, even if he was so very bored inside, amongst the adults drinking in their neat outfits. Normally, Andres didn't mind being around adults. He liked listening to their conversations. But tonight it was just hopelessly dull, and after an hour he'd spent enough time looking around that he'd worked out the area of the entertaining room in his head and could visualize the layout of every single painting and vase in his head with his eyes closed.
When he finished with that, the garden seemed like the only choice. Slipping out had been easy. Climbing the treehouse hadn't been too bad, when he was curious and it seemed interesting.
Getting down, now...
Andres blinked. He was sure the lawn had been empty the last time he looked. There was now a thin man standing not too far from the reach of the tree roots, dressed in a black suit.
He took his chance. "Hello, Mister? Can you help?"
"Hello. What's wrong?" the man said, looking straight at him. He didn't seem at all surprised to see Andres up there.
Andres went red. "I, uh - I can't get down."
"Well, that is a problem." Andres was too far up to see, but the man sounded like he was smiling. "Hang in there a moment, I'm going to get you some help."
"You'll be back?" Andres said quickly.
The man stopped walking. "Less than two minutes. Promise. What's your name?"
"Andres. Andres Iniesta."
"Andres, you have a watch?"
"Yep."
"Hold me to it, if you like. Start timing. Two minutes."
Watching his watch tick took his mind off worrying. The second hand had gone around a little more than once when the man came back. The help he had been talking about -
The boy couldn't have been that much older than Andres. The man was talking to him in the same warm tone he had used with Andres. "I shudder to think what kind of trouble little Pique was getting you into."
"No trouble, I swear! Hey, is that - wow." The boy whistled. "That's not a treehouse, that's a tree mansion."
"The Bernabeus do like to make everything as grand as possible. Now go. Don't keep Andres waiting."
Andres leaned out of the treehouse to watch the boy climb up, but he quickly had to backtrack to make room as the boy, nimble as a monkey, climbed like he was walking on flat land.
His mouth must have been hanging open really obviously, going by the look on Xavi's face. He had huge, bright eyes like a cartoon character, and the widest smile Andres had ever seen.
"Hey, I'm Xavi. How can I help you?"
Now he really was embarrased. Xavi couldn't have been more than five years older. "I'm stuck."
"You can't climb down?"
"Uh, I - "
"What was that?"
"I'm scared of heights," Andres mumbled.
Xavi whistled. "Wow, good work getting up here. No, I'm serious. Let's see about getting you down, though. I think Pep's getting impatient."
"Pep?"
"That's Pep Guardiola, down there. I'm his ward."
Andres had never heard anyone use that word like that before, but he guessed it meant something like adoption. "Oh. I'm Andres."
Xavi smiled. "Well, Andres, hold on to me and don't let go."
* * *
Hardly anyone cares that Pep was not born a Gamper. Or if they do, they know better than to mention it. Andres still hears the occasional mutter about Xavi, but only after a few cocktails.
He wonders what people are going to say when his guardianship comes through. Just out of curiosity, and respect for the creativity that gossip is capable of. Not that any of it matters.
Xavi drops him at the entrance to the Batcave, saying he has to get back to interrupted business. It's not the most awkward excuse he's used to avoid Pep - or rather Batman - lately, but it's close.
That's a problem that needs studying, but for now -
"Welcome back, young sir."
Carles' ability to make returning from being captured in battle scratched, bruised, and without all his gear sound like coming home from a day spent playing golf never ceases to amaze him. Andres has to smile.
"Thanks, Charly. Is Pep around?"
"I believe you'll find him tending to the Batmobile, sir."
Andres thanks Charly again before moving on into the heart of the Cave. He's more than a little reluctant to do this. But Pep would say that only meant it had to be done quickly, like ripping off a scab.
Not that he needs any sort of healing process. Not for this.
Pep turns before Andres is even ten steps down. He'd been trying to work on stealth, too. Dammit.
The cowl is off, and his smile is easy, relieved. "Welcome back."
Andres breathes in deeply.
"I can't believe you set me up to get caught by those smugglers."
The words linger in the air, batted away only by the force of Pep's voice, precise as one of his blows, softened only by the look in his eyes.
"Incorrect. I put you where you'd be most useful." For a fleeting moment, he looks rueful. "Are you angry at me?"
Andres smiles back.
"I'm not. You know I'm not. I made my choice, just like Xavi did. Like you."
We're partners. No matter what.
Image taken from Batman #442 (A Lonely Place of Dying Part 5).
Notes:
1. This story was heavily influenced by the work of Devin Grayson and Greg Rucka in general, and the Batman story A Lonely Place of Dying in particular. Yes, Andres Iniesta is Tim Drake (Robin III) and Xavi is Dick Grayson (previously Robin I, then Nightwing) in this story. It makes sense if you think about it.
2. By which I mean the line of succession from Guardiola to Xavi to Iniesta does remind me of the way Batfamily dynamics work sometimes. Especially if you were following canon during the late 90s and early 2000s.
3. There's a lot of material that didn't fit in the scope of this story. I tried to balance making sense and telling the limited origin story that I wanted to tell, framed through the lens of a routine operation.
4. Charly is Charles Rexarch, who is the Alfred of this story. The Bernabeu referred to is Amador Bernabeu, the grandfather of Gerard Pique and a former Barca vice-president in real life.
5. L'Hospitalet de Llobregat is a city in greater Barcelona (which incidentally happens to be the hometown of Victor Valdes.) The Mossos d'Esquadra are the police force of Catalunya. 112 is the emergency number for Barcelona.
6. If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next is by the Manic Street Preachers. I thought it was appropriate.
All feedback loved, as always. Many thanks to meretricula for all her help with this fic.